


The Light In The Dark

by FleasCanBite



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Androgyny, Anorexia Nervosa, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Embarrassment, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Gen, M/M, Recovery, Shame, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleasCanBite/pseuds/FleasCanBite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Light In the Dark: Jean 'Jehan' Prouvaire, an intrepid poet struggling with an eating disorder is admitted to a mental facility. Not pills or therapy could help him, but possibly, A certain porter (Courfeyrac) at the facility could bring in new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

Home -> West End Academy -> West End Hospital for Children

  


Floral sheets lay over the wheezing body of the young Jean Prouvaire. Only sixteen, a child, who was slowly killing himself. With weak motions and a slow stretch he pulled himself out of bed. His hands falling to his thighs, grazing against his own skin.   
"You're a pig" the boy would say as he looked in the mirror. He'd keep balance by holding onto his dresser while he scanned his body and the delusions he seen with it.   
Jean proceeded to slip on an oversized sweater, hiding how much weight he'd lost from his family. He knew if they saw his _'progress_ ' as he would call it, they'd judge him, or worse, send him away.   
"Jean, are you almost ready? schools soon!" His busy mother yelled from the kitchen of their small two story house. She was a plump woman with fair skin and ginger coloured hair. She was one of those people who you just couldn't find any bad in them. She was good.  
Jean stumbled along putting a pair of denim jeans on and tying his long hair up in a bun, sighing once again at the mirror before he left.   
"You look tired Jean, did you stay up all night again?" Asked his mother, she knew the answer. She had heard him caughing and heaving in the bathroom all night. She'd grown so worried for her son that she'd started pretending that everything was okay.   
Jean was unresponsive to his Mother. She gave him a worried look as he went out the door to catch the school bus, his younger siblings followed close behind.   
Myriel, who was eight years old, was Jeans younger sister. She was much like him, quiet, and kept to herself. They shared a very close bond. Luca, who was ten years old, was very much the opposite. He was outgoing, loud and almost always obnoxious. He and Jean got along when he was younger, but the boy had now grown tired of Jeans more _'feminine'_ approach to life.   
The three walked up the steps of the schoolbus, Jean pushed the two in as Myriel was reluctent to attend school. She sat down by her friends, and Luca by his. Jean walked to the back of the bus and sat alone.   
Jean could feel his eyes throbbing, they had become dry from the malnutrition. He'd been restricting food for the last month and had gone from an already thin figure of 120 lbs to the empty shell of 97 lbs. With a BMI of 15.3, placing the BMI-for his age well below the first percentile.   
Jean turned around to the boy who sat behind him on the bus, Feuilly was his name. Jean usually gave his lunches that his mother had packed to Feuilly because he knew that 1. it would stop him from eating them, and 2. that Feuilly came from an extremely poor family, even worse off the Jeans own family.   
"I'd say thank you for the food today Jean, but, I think you should eat it." Feuilly began looking at his friends skeleton wrists and hollowed cheecks. "You don't look so good today." Feuilly added.  
Jean scoffed and turned away throwing his food at the other boy anyways. _"I know I look horrible today, i'm a fucking fat mess. I'm disgusting. Do they think they can just keep feeding me and fattening me up that i'll forget about my own health?"_ these were common thoughts in Jeans mind. Constantly spinning around in his brain, before his disordered eating began, he'd spend his time writing poetry, playing the flute, and gardening. He still gardened, but only because he knew it would burn off calories, he could no longer stay focused or awake enough to use his creative mind.   
Once they arrived at school, West End Academy, Jean wished his siblings luck for the day and walked to the upper floor to go to his locker.   
Walking up the long steps, passing by the crowd of other students, he began to feel even weaker than he usually did. Blurred vision and a sudden cold sweat sent him falling limp to the ground, hitting his face off the stairs and he was knocked out cold.   
It was Jeans law teacher, Mr.Javert, who found him lying by the steps. Javert was looking for the philosophy teacher Valjean when he seen the boy. He walked over to him and nudged his shoulder.  
"Jean?" He said in his authoratative voice. His face grew worried when the boy didn't respond. Soon after Valjean ran into the stairwell. The two teachers had a sixth sense when it came to finding eachother.  
"ValJean! I can't seem to figure out what is wrong with this boy." Javert stated furrowing his brow at the taller man who now stood before the other teacher and the boy. He kneeled down and he knew what was wrong when he felt the skeleton of his body through the boys skin.  
"This boy needs a doctor. We need to get him to the hospital at once!" Valjean said and ran off into the next corridor.   
"Valjean!" Javert yelled at the teacher and then proceeded to whip out his cell phone and dial 911.   
Red, White, and blue, colours flashing as parimedics helped get the boy into the ambulance. He'd be going to West End Hospital, it was a good place, Jean just wasn't ready for what would go on at this hospital. He wasn't prepared to face recovery in the eye and take it by the hand.  


* * *

Jean woke up laying on an uncomfortable bed, a feeding tube threaded through his nostril and heart monitors taped to his chest. His mother sat beside his bed. When Jean looked at her he could see tears in her eyes.   
"Mum..? where are we?" Jean mumbled quietly, biting his chapped lips and causing them to bleed a little. The taste of his own blood made him nausous  
"You're in the Intensive care unit of the hospital. You won't be here long." She said forcing a smile on her face.  
"Good.. I couldn't stand staying in a hospital, I just need to get some more sleep, get in my own bed at home. Afterall, I just fell, thats it. I'm fine." Jean said trying to convince himself.   
"Oh Jean, you won't be going home for a long time says the doctor." She said finally letting her tears run down her face.   
"What? Why? I'm fine, no need to bubble wrap me! It was just a fall, I haven't been sleeping well." Jean said anxiously.  
"Jean." His mother said calming herself. "I hear you at night, _the whole family can tell somethings wrong_ , you pass on dinner, you've been excercising for hours a day, you call yourself fat, We think you're suffering from an eating disorder." She finished laying her head on Jeans bed. He ran his hand through her hair, she shared many of the same physical attributes as his mother, pale freckled skin, light orange hair, that he had bleached to a crisp of white blonde, but he'd inherited his fathers physique, small, thin, and gangly.   
Jean and his Mother sat together for the next day, talking about recovery, waiting for the doctor. Hearing his news that depending on how Jean cooperated he'd stay there for at least a month.   


* * *

This morning the Psychologist assigned to Jean would come visit his room since he couldn't come down to her office yet, he was still too unstable. When she walked in it was like an angel had entered the room, she was young, Jean guessed around 25 years old. Her light skin glowed and was framed by flowing blonde waves she kept in a braid. Her rosie cheeks and warming smile made Jean feel a little more at home in the small white room.   
"Hello, Jean. I'm Cosette Pontmercy. I'm going to help you out while you're here okay?" She said in her most pleasent voice.   
"Okay.. I don't really need help, I just need out of here. Can you tell them I don't have an eating disorder?" Jean told her over and over again.  
Cosette gave a worried smile to the thin boy. He looked like a wraith.  
"I'm sorry Jean, but we're going to have to talk before I can help you out of here. Please, Tell me your full name, what you like to do, hobbies?" She said, informaly as possible, trying not to make this an interview.  
"umm. . okay? My Name is Jean Prouvaire, I attend West End Academy in Sherbrooke" He began rolling his eyes at the blonde woman across from him. "I enjoy writing poetry and playing the-" He was interupted by Cosette.  
"May I ask you, sorry for the interuption, what do you write about with your poetry?" She asked quickly scribbling down notes into his files.   
"um. . I used to write about love, and spring air, and my ideal future" He said shamefully since he hadn't written anything worth sharing for months.  
"What is your Ideal Future?" Cosette asked sounding very interested.  
"My ideal future, i've almost forgotten what it is, my heads been busy with other thoughts.." Jean spoke hiding his face because he knew tears were starting to form.   
"What has your head been busy with, tell me those thoughts, please." She asked politely.  
Jean took a moment to think, then he remembered and decided it was time to be a bit honest.  
"Food. I'm constantly thinking about food and what it will do to me... its almost become an-" Jean was interupted again.  
"An obsession? That is a usual sign of an eating disorder. May I ask, do you self harm other than your starvation?" She asked continuing to write in her notes. Jean was a little upset to hear 'eating disorder' but, once again. He wanted out of this hell hole, so he would cooperate.  
"I cut. It started with me just writing with a sharpie little things like you're disgusting, or oink oink, then I started taking a knife to my wrists and engraving labels into myself. Whatever I could find to make myself feel even worse. _Useless, stupid, obese, faggot, dissapointment._ They're all there." Jean finished pulling up his sleeve and showing Cosette his arm that was filled with words engraved in his own skin.   
"Well, i'm going to leave you with a few work sheets for today Jean, but it was pleasent meeting you, and I look forward to helping you recover." Cosette said noticing that she had another appointment at this time and then left out the door leaving Jean alone. 

  
Jean looked at the clock once Cosette left and saw that it was 9:00am. He figured it was time to get some more sleep. However, he was interupted by a nurse stumbling in clumselly. "I have your breakfast! Jean is it? I'm Bosseut, i'm your nurse today." The bald man spoke, Jean laughed looking at him scramble around.   
"Thats okay Bosseut, I don't want breakfast." Jean said nonchalently.   
Bosseut turned serious then, looking over at Jean.   
"I was told you wanted to cooperate, I don't care if you don't want this food, you need it. So buzz that bed to the sitting position and i'll eat my breakfast with you." Bosseut said seriously.   
When Bosseut opened the trey to the food that Jean was expected to eat he instantly panicked. There was two peices of toast, with butter, and scrambled eggs, and some sort of juice and digestive cookies.   
"What the fuck! I can't eat this! This is more than a regular person would eat!" Jean yelled at his nurse. "sorry.. I just. I can't." Jean apologized and pushed the food away.  
"I understand this does look big, but the dieticien hasn't been around to you to get your new diet plan. So just try and eat a peice of toast and the juice for now okay?" Bosseut said with a happy smile and a pat on the shoulder.   
Jean took small nibbles on the toast, the flavour burned his toungue. Singed the grease down his throat and through his digestive system he could feel it move. He shutterred; he swallowed and then washed the grease away with the red coloured juice.   
"can I sleep now?" Jean asked. His nurse nodded and turned off his light and closed his curtains. Shutting the door behind him.

It all went dark, Jean fell asleep instantly. Just talking to his visitors today overwhelmed him. 


	2. I am Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week after chapter 1, Jean is still in the ICU of the small town hospital, his nurse, Bosseut takes him out for a wheelchair ride in the hospital garden. Jean meets the head doctor of the psyche team (to whose building he'll be moving into the following day) Dr. Joly Lanthier, a quirky yet cheeful guy who tries to get Jean out of his denial.   
> Jean reflects on his own family life at home and his hatred for his father. He finds solice in thinking about the irish porter he met in the garden, the one with the curly dark hair and the wide grin that could make you weak at the knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it is taking place in sherbrooke.  
> No, I do not mean sherbrooke quebec, I mean sherbrooke Nova scotia. smaaall town kids.   
> Also, I swear he won't be called 'Jean' for the whole fic, its driving me mad right now but he's going to earn his 'Jehan' in the next chapter yaaay. and durr who do you think Joly is refering to when he says the 'close knit group of kids' we'll be meeting a few more of the amis as mental patients and staff next chapter yaaay.

The week in the Intensive Care Unit went by fast for everyone excluding Jean. For the last week he'd either been sleeping, crying, or screaming at his nurses and doctors about the food. Today was his last day in the medical unit of the hospital, then they'd move him to the Mental facility on the other side of town.   
A knock came from the door and Jeans nurse Bosseut walked in, to Jeans surprise, Bosseut had a wheelchair with him. The bald man gave a warm smile.  
"I know you wanted out of that bed, so I talked to your doctor, and he says that you can go for fifteen minute escorted ride around the building." Bosseut explained. "So, Wanna go for a ride?"   
Jean was more than excited, laying on your back for a full week is a lot worse than it sounds.   
"Of course!" Jean exclaimed, he smiled wider than he had in a long time. Bosseut had been so kind to him, it was wonderful.   
Bosseut wheeled Jean downstairs, Jean had requested that they go outside to the hospital garden.   
It wasn't like his own at home, still, the flowers were admirable. Marigolds had always been Jeans favorite and he spotted them off in the distance. Bosseut was chatting with one of his coworkers so he didn't notice the little poet slip out of the wheelchair.  
"This is my patient today, Jean. Jean?" Bosseut looked around for the poet. "Oh shit, just my luck I lose the patient!" Bosseut sighed. His coworker laughed and got back to his own job until Bosseut pulled him into the job to find the poet.   
The search lasted about three minutes when they finally found the little Poet curled up by the marigolds, crying.   
"I'm gonna get going okay Bosseut? See you later Jean." The tall man said walking quickly back into the hospital.   
"Oh Jean.. You can't walk yet okay? Give it at least another week." Bosseut said bringing the chair over to Jean and trying to get him into it.  
"I remember laying in my mothers Marigold garden, just like this." the boy lay and rambled on about flowery memories of days gone.  
"Jean you have to get in the chair, quit fighting with me." Bosseut said grabbing the boy and hoisting him back into the chair. Though Jean didn't go without a fight, he clawed at Bosseuts face and managed to break the mans dark skin.  
"I'm not going back in there. You all don't understand. You don't understand." Jean sobbed crawling back onto the ground by the little flowers.   
"You're not making this any easier for yourself" Bosseut sighed and then scouted the area for someone to help him escort Jean back to his room. There by the garbage stood Courfeyrac Moreau, a tall irish boy who'd been working at the hospital as a porter/janitor ever since he'd moved to Sherbrooke. He could often be found flirting with coworkers. However, he'd do just about now.  
"Courfeyrac! Get your ass over here" Bosseut yelled at the boy, who now looked confused as he couldn't see his patient from behind the flower bush. He ran over anyways, knowing Bosseut he'd gotten himself into some sort of trouble.  
"What is it?" Courfeyrac said raising an eyebrow at the bald man who looked perfectly panicked. Bosseut gestered to the tiny boy laying on the ground and began to explain to Courfeyrac what was going on.  
Jean couldn't stop himself from watching the new man. His dark curls and wide grin were perfection in the poets eyes.   
"C'mon little y'flower" Courfeyrac said as he and Bosseut put Jean back in the wheelchair. Jean couldn't help but blush the first time the porter put his hands on him. "There y'go, safe _n'_ sound." Courfeyrac added as he waved away Bosseut.  
Jean sat in a daze while his nurse pushed his chair back into the hospital doors. 

* * *

Jean looked up at the clock on the wall of the white hospital room. It was quiet enough to hear the tick that came before each little tock. Jean was lucky enough that he'd scored a private room at this hospital considering his families current financial stance.   
"12:02 p.m. ?... _fuck_." Jean muttered as he realized his lunch would be coming soon. A new face walked in through the door. Pale faced and auburn hair accompanied the thin man wearing doctors clothing.   
"Are you my nurse this afternoon?" Jean asked confused, Bosseut had been his nurse almost everyday. He'd grown attached to him.   
"No no no, I can't imagine doing the work the nurses have to do..." The doctor shuttered. Jean looked close at the mans nametag on his white coat. _Dr. Joly Lanthier, Head of Psychiatrics._  
Jean instantly armed his mind, he knew this doctor would try to invade it so he felt it was time to be defensive and protect the falling castle that is his brain.  
"Jean Prouvaire right?" Joly asked looking down at his files. Jean nodded and sent a furrowed brow in the doctors direction. "So I'm sure you've heard that you'll be moving to my building tomorrow, right?"   
Jean nodded. He wasn't sure what to expect, of any book or television program he's seen they had made mental hospitals out to be the scariest place in the world. Whether it was comedies or the countless horror movies of mental facilities, they were always scary, supernatural, and eerie places. Jeans head began to run away with him.  
"I think i'm better. Really, I don't think I have to go to your building, Can we just call my Mother and I can stay at home?" Jean said with a forced laugh.   
Joly sighed. "I'm sorry Jean, you're not ready to leave. You've just gotten rid of your feeding tube and we haven't even gotten you up to 500 calories a day. We're moving you to the mental facility because we believe some social interactions might do you some good." Joly put a concerned smile on his face.   
"And how many calories are you expecting me to eat?" Jean asked with annoyance in the back of his voice.   
"We are hoping to get you up to 2100 calories before you leave our facility. We're positive you'll like it there, its quite a close knit group of kids we have right now." The doctor smiled, he seemed happy. Jean figured this gitty doctor must be writing himself perscriptions. No one could be that happy to spend their life in a hospital. Though that was not what Jean was thinking of at the moment.  
 _2100? 2100 calories? Are they crazy?_  
"I don't have an _eating_ disorder. I'm fine." Jean hissed with a false confidence.   
Joly sighed and rolled his eyes. He'd been watching the little poet very closely since he'd entered the room.  
"Jean, you're shaking. You have been ever since I mentioned that you will have to intake 2100 calories. Lord knows what will happen when I tell you that we want you to weigh 135 at least!" Joly said with an air of tiredess in his voice.   
Jeans eyes instantly filled up with tears, his shaking became far more eratic.   
"This is what I mean Jean, if I mention _anything_ to do with you gaining weight you get terrified." Joly explained. "We have to work together to make you healthy again, then I promise i'll get out of your hair. Trust me, I'm not that much older than you, I know what it is like to have a mental drawback." Joly said giving Jean a pat on the knee and then turning to collect his things and leave with a smile.   
Jean laid back in his bed and stared at the blank white ceiling. He thought of his siblings, what were they doing? Did they know what was wrong with him? He thought of his Mother, with Jean not home nobody would look after her, she'd become a slave to the house. Jean tried his best to not think of his Father, the man that would come home from his job as a half assed fishermen and sit on his arse all day, commanding his mother around the place while drunk off his rocker. Jean never understood why his mother stayed with that man, he was cruel. Jean's thoughts circled back to when he was around fourteen.  
 _"Mum, I think I have to tell you something."_  
 _"What is it darling? You can tell me anything."_  
 _"I think i'm gay."_  
 _He thought he'd told his mother in complete secrecy however, the lump of a father had overheard this conversation._  
 _"Oh, so now you're one of them queers?"_  
 _"Jerry please! Let the boy be."_  
 _"You know, this is why I went in the army. No queers there, they all get killed off."_  
 _"Dad.. I'm sorry.."_   
_"No i'm sorry son, for leaving you alone with your mother every month while i go fishing. Its turned your sides soft. No wonder your a queer."_  
Not only did these memories leave mental scars on Jeans mind, His father had beaten him enough times after that talk that Jean was positive there were some places on his body that were constantly bruised.   
Jean tried to come up with something to think of that didn't make him want to rip out his own organs and feed them to hungry dogs and children. He thought of laying in the nice flower garden earlier. Then, he thought of the attractive boy with the lovely irish brogue. _Courfeyrac_. Jean said to himself quietly.   
The poet had developed a swoon for the irish worker.


	3. Springtime laughs bloody murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean Prouvaire convinces Courfeyrac to wheel him to the hospital, Courf' willingly obliges.   
> Jean Prouvaire gets a roommate at west end hospital, its not an amis!  
> Roommate Troubles x naive on duty nurse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee  
> it was about time I had 'Parnasse showed up. he's such a favorite of mine.

Today was the day. Jean was moving to the mental facility across town. The thin boy still wasn't allowed to walk, and he was constantly struggling with the idea of gaining any weight. 

Jeans usual nurse walked in with a wheelchair and a happy smile. 

 

"So, Excited about moving to the West Mental Facility? Its pretty great there." Bosseut said with his ever present smile. Jean rolled his eyes, same shit different pile. "Okay well lets get you're stats down for today and then the porter should be here." The bald man said pulling the little machine out to take his heart rate.

His heart rate would have been fine if he didn't see the small weight scale that was sitting on the wheelchair seat. Bosseut could tell that the boy was terrified by that one object.

 

"Don't worry, you can close your eyes and I don't have to tell you your weight." Bosseut said comforting.

 

"No, No, I want to know how much fucking fat i've gained since i've been here." Jean said while looking down at himself. "I look disgusting." He added with an upturned lip.

After they weighed the boy Jean was in a fit once Bosseut told him he'd gained one whole pound. 

Jean laid on his hospital bed crying and screaming at himself. You fucking pig, Useless fucking pig..

A females loud laughter covered up Jeans screams. Bosseut opened the door to find, of course, Courfeyrac, who was working as a porter flirting with one of the female nurses. 

 

"Oh, Jean this will be your porter to take you to the mental unit, Courfeyrac Morreau." 

Jean blankly stared at the porter. He was a gorgeous boy, fantastically tall and muscular with a face like an elf. 

 

Jean lent out his hand to the porter "i'm Jean Prouvaire, nice to meet you." 

once the porter took Jeans hand in his own and gave him a strong handshake Jeans face turned beet red. Courfeyrac tried to cover up his laughter at the boy, as he'd been advised this patient was extremely sensitive. 

 

"Nice to meet you Jehan, we'll be travelling together today." Courfeyrac said happilly, Jean just looked at him confused.

 

"One moment, thats not my name." Jean corrected the irish boys pronounciation. "it is Jean, like the english 'Jon' but with a french accent, and if I know my french names well I'd say you have quite the double hitter. 'Courfeyrac Morreau'!" Jean laughed at the porter.

 

"Yeah, my Dads a frenchmen, mums an irish." Courfeyrac laughed. " And by the way, Jehan suits you better." He finished.

* * *

 

Jean had convinced Courfeyrac to wheel him all the way to the Mental Facility, it was a small town anyways, not even 300 people. They passed by a residential street and Courfeyrac snatched a small flower off of a lylac bush. 

 

"Pour vous, petit Fleur" Courfeyrac said placing the flower in the thin boys long hair. Jean was even more red than he was before, eyes wide and stuttering.

 

"Merci beaucoup! Tu parle en francais?" Jean replied back, thrilled to hear this adonis speak his favorite poetic language.

 

"Oui, Ne pas bien." Courfeyrac said in his best accent. "Do I sound authentic?" Courfeyrac laughed.

 

"What are you planning on using the french language to get laid?" Jean smiled with an evil look in his eyes at Courfeyrac.

 

"Oh! You got me!" Courfeyrac laughed once more. 

Jean cursed himself for not taking the opportunity that Courfeyrac was blatently giving him to return flirtatious praise. 

 

"Do you work at the mental facility?" Jean asked shyly, hoping that this new boy would be wherever he was going. Jean felt comfortable around this boy, yet, he also felt completely horrible around him. Looking up at his wide grin when he spoke, and his deep eyes, Jean felt peace while looking at the boy. 

 

"I work everywhere. I work at the kids hospital, I work at the Mental hospital, I work at the homeless shelters, and I work at a bar." The porter laughed as he listed them off. "Although, I mostly just do deliveries back and forth for people. Like i'm doing right now." Courfeyrac smiled and ruffled Jeans hair. "you're my delivery today, little flower." 

* * *

 

Once they'd arrived at the hospital Jean began to panic. He was so scared of Hospitals. Upon entering the building a little boy walked up to Jean and clutched at his side.

 

"So.. what are you in here for?" the boy asked before being chastised by a nurse telling him that ' you can' t just ask why people are in here ' 

Courfeyrac wheeled Jean over to his room, #999, a small room with two beds, Jean knew what that meant.

 

"fuck." Jean said, now knowing he'd have some sort of crazed roommate. 

 

"What is it princess? Used to something a little fancier?" A boy walked out of the room, clad in black and pale faced. 

 

"shit, Montparnasse I thought they weren't letting you have a roommate?" Courfeyrac sighed.

 

"Well, this is my room. If this is where your delivery is supposed to go, I trust you'll leave the little thing in my hands." Montparnasse said eyeing Jean up and down, with a metaphorical slime attached to his words.

Courfeyrac spared Jean having to say anything to the 'creep'. 

 

 "Jehan this is Montparnasse, Montparnasse this is Jehan. " he introduced the two. Montparnasse simply sighed and turned up his lip looking at Jeans choice of clothing. 

 

"Courf' you're gonna stay aren't you?" Jean asked sounding almost like a nervous little boy. 

Courfeyrac gave him a sigh and a smile, which made Jeans heart skip a beat.

 

"I have other deliveries to make today Jean, i'll see you around though." Courfeyrac reasurred the little poet.

 

"Promise?" Jean asked.

 

"I promise." Courfeyrac said before running off into a distant job.

* * *

 

Jean sat on his bed, the one across from Montparnasse, unpacking his clothing, and his personal stuff from home. This would include poetry books, pictures of his family. 

 

"really?" Montparnasse scoffed as Jean pulled out his personal things.

 

" _really_?" The poet replied and sent him an equally rude glare, Montparnasse's grimace turned to a smile.

 

"Montparnasse." The pale one stuck out his long arm in a greeting gesture. Jean looked down to shake this boys hand, his hands felt just as cold as his own.  "possibly he was in for the same thing as me?" Jean had thought to himself, until that is, he pulled his hand away noticing the blood in Montparnasse's fingernails. 

 

"Oh shit." Jean muttered under his breath.

 

"Relax, its not my blood." Montparnasse grinned and his eyes widened. "You seem like my kind of guy Jean, you wouldn't go telling anyone if I told you where the body was? would you?" Montparnasse actually started to chuckle, not an evil chuckle that you'd expect, but i sincere and happy one. 

Jean backed away from Montparnasse, who seemed to be scaring the frail boy more and more as the conversation went on. The boys eyes, so full of light and springtime, jumping back and forth each time he added to the conversation. 

 

"I-I'm just going to go to the washroom." Jean said pulling on the door to the rooms bathroom. Montparnasse walked up behind him putting a hand on Jeans frail shuolder. Montparnasse was about half a foot taller than Jean, slender, but not as thin. He had black hair that was done perfectly, and his clothes even more perfect. His white teeth behind the red smile was enough to shoot you down. His tongue grazing across those teeth was even worse when Jean realized the door was not going to open. 

 

"Its locked." Montparnasse whispered into the boys ear. 

 

"Montparnasse!" A nurse yelled angerly at the taller pale boy. A larger man came in with her and pulled the boy away. 

The nurse stayed behind and took Jean aside.

 

"I'm so sorry, he's wanted a roommate for a long time now and we finally thought he was ready." The plump nurse with tired eyes explained. "We usually find that giving our ED patients a roommate helps, but, 'Parnasse isn't exactly the easiest to get along with." She sighed.

 

"C-Can I ask you something?" Jean stuttered while the nurse nodded noting at how scared the small boy already was. "A-about Montparnasse?" He added quickly.

 

"I can only tell you so much, I'm not going to breach confidentiality." She assured Jean.

 

"Well.. Did he hurt someone? Recently?" Jean asked whispering into her ear.

 

In about three seconds Jean would believe that this nurse was crazy. She began to laugh hysterically.

 

"No no no dear boy, he hasn't hurt a fly." She chuckled.

 

"Then what about the blood on his hands?" Jean whispered again into her ear.

 

"He is nothing but an artistic boy who suffers from mental illnesses, you'll find a few of those within our walls." 

 

"I'm pretty sure that was blood not paints." Jean said getting more nervous as Montparnasse was now standing in the doorway to their room. 

 

"Now, I don't know what you saw but calm down little one, he just wants to scare you." She said pushing Jeans hair out of his face. "Now you two boys play nice okay?"

Jean shuttered looking at the boy in the doorway. The boy who's eyes looked like a spring day but who's smile screamed bloody murder. 

 

"I better get out of here soon..." Jean sighed to himself.


End file.
